


How to live and love as an amputee, by Brendan Costanza

by Trovia



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Amputation, Bisexual Character, Coming Out, Friendship, Friendship/Love, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Male Friendship, PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-08
Updated: 2010-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trovia/pseuds/Trovia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Costanza insisted on thinking of Felix as a normal guy with a normal life, who should go through recovery step by step. Felix however couldn't make out a life he could get back to at all, and if there was one anyhow, he wasn't sure he wanted it back."</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to live and love as an amputee, by Brendan Costanza

It all started the day Brendan ‘Hot Dog’ Costanza showed up at his bedside to bring him a sex list.

Felix didn’t know much about Lt. Costanza. They had played cards on Demetrius; he knew the lieutenant was one hell of a bluffer. Lt. Costanza didn’t know much about Felix either, considering he’d waited four days to not interrupt the many friends he supposed were visiting Felix. Also, he thought that the list would cheer Felix up.

“It’s a gift,” Hot Dog explained. “It’s a list of all the things you can still do when you frak. I thought if I were you, I’d be really worried about that but with all the morpha it might be hard to think.” He was unfolding a piece of paper. “I asked around and Helo says you’re gay. Hope that’s true because it’s a very specific list. I had to guess about the gay stuff of course but I figure there’s no secret to it.”

Felix hadn’t thought about how his sex life would change now that he was an amputee. If asked in a sensible fashion, he would probably have pointed out that he hadn’t had any sex life to begin with and the idea that this would change after losing a leg was just a little bit ridiculous. As it was, he had not thought about it, and he decided right at this point that he never wanted to, either.

Ever since Admiral Adama had shown up at his bedside telling him they’d find him a nice calm job if he decided to stay in the military, reality had started creeping up on the horizon. Felix was still struggling to get the idea that he would never walk on his own again.

“Why ever would you bring me a gift?” Felix said. His instincts told him to delay the inevitable. Delaying the inevitable seemed like a good course of action in general.

Hot Dog gave him a confused look. “You don’t bring people gifts when they’re sick? We did it all the time on Libron. Granted, it’s a bit hard to find flowers on Galactica but that’s why I made the list after all. Sure you’ve had other people bring you...” He paused then. Felix followed his eyes to the empty bedside table. “Or maybe not,” Hot Dog said, returning his attention to Felix. “Anyway, you’ll like it. Here goes. Good news first.” He grinned. “Blowjobs? Work exactly like they did before.”

There was no way to stop him. Shrinking back into his pillow, Felix listened with a growing, morbid kind of fascination while Hot Dog laid out all the reasons for why Felix’ excuse of a life was indeed over, no matter he was still breathing. He couldn’t top anymore because he couldn’t put weight on the stump. Spooning was still a go though if he just lay on his healthy leg. And if he had a taste for topping from the bottom, he’d have an excuse to do it all the time now. It became apparent fast that Hot Dog was as easy as he was tactless.

“Do you like bondage?” asked the pilot.

“No,” Felix lied.

“Shame,” Hot Dog said. “Because you could try and combine doing it standing up with being tied to something. You’d have to hold onto something hard anyway. I’m not sure about that one though. If you ever try, tell me if it works.”

Felix attempted to smile.

“Anyway,” Hot Dog said, standing up. “I’ll leave this with you for further inspection...” Holding up the paper, he placed it on the bedside table. “... but I have to go back on duty or Helo will have my ass. Hope you’ll be up and about soon, Gaeta. We’re a man short at the card games, what with you being here and Athena being in the brig.”

“Sharon is in the brig?” Felix asked in distraction. While this was the first time he heard about Helo being CAG, too, he cared about what was going on around him far less than was healthy, so he barely noticed.

“Shot a Cylon. Good riddance, too.” Another thing Felix did not notice was that Hot Dog took care to place the chair in a corner where it wouldn’t be in the way if Felix got up from bed. “Anything I can get you? Want to have an extended version of that list? Because I have a free shift coming up.”

And this was when Felix answered without thinking, making a decision that would indeed eventually change his life. He did so because it was his fourth day in sickbay. There hadn’t been any visitors except the Admiral on his way over to President Roslin (one thing Felix _did_ notice was that Hot Dog didn't even look at the President on his way out, and that left him feeling strangely satisfied). Whenever Cottle came over to his bedside to talk to him about how they hadn’t found a prosthetic for him and how he’d have to readjust, Felix did not listen because Felix was very much wrapped up in a bubble of shock. Lt. Costanza reading him the list, however, had hurt. It had hurt so much that Felix was trembling. Hurting was better than not feeling at all; Felix decided he wanted to do it some more.

“I’m going to be moved to new quarters tomorrow,” he said. “Could you maybe bring my things over there from my locker? I don’t know who else I could ask.”

“Of course,” Hot Dog said without hesitation. “I’ll do it first thing after patrol.”  


* * *

When in a state of shock, it’s always quite surprising to notice that life has been going on for other people. Galactica’s engines kept humming, people arranged for things to change, stirring up the bubble. Such a change took place when Felix was deposited in his new quarters, a first step towards a one-legged life that he didn’t want to take by any means. It did occur to him that talking of steps of recovery was ironic all on its own; even language didn’t fit anymore.

Maybe Felix was a little bit depressed at that point.

“Neat,” Hot Dog said when he stepped into the room, taking in the rack, the desk, the locker curiously. There was a lot of space for tables or cribs or whatever Galactica’s couples decided they needed. Felix wouldn’t know. “Why did they move you to family quarters?”

“There’s a private head here. It’s easier than modifying the officers’ head,” Felix said sitting on his rack where Ishay had left him, fighting off a stab of phantom pain. He grimaced, looking after Hot Dog who dropped the duffle bag immediately and vanished through the bathroom door.

“Hey, you have a chair in here!” the pilot’s voice could be heard after a moment. “I wouldn’t mind sitting when I’m taking showers! You think Anders would shoot me too? I could call Starbuck a toaster or something.” A frown on his face, he reappeared in the doorway. “Except she’d probably beat me up before he’d get to pull the trigger. I wouldn’t lose a leg from that. Just teeth.”

Felix forced himself to smile despite the pain, trying to think up another thing he could ask Hot Dog to do to make him come back.

It reminded him of the time they’d had a boxing match right after New Caprica, when he’d contemplated challenging Sharon so she’d beat him up.  


* * *

As it worked out, making Hot Dog come back wasn’t hard. It seemed there had been a custom of visiting the sick in some parts of Libron, and if Hot Dog hadn’t visited Felix, his mother would have come back from the Elysian Fields to haunt him for his lack of manners. The wrath of Mrs. Costanza carried them through the first couple of days. Then, Hot Dog started coming back out of habit. He’d relieve the nurse of the task of bringing Felix dinner after shifts, eating with him, saying he was bored of the mess, sharing new bits of gossip. Sometimes he’d bring the pilots’ deck of Triad cards, teaching Felix how to read Starbuck when she bluffed (there was no possible universe where Felix and Starbuck would ever play cards together again, but it was somehow satisfying to learn how to best her, anyway).

Once every third shift Cottle came over to accompany Felix while he walked through Galactica on crutches so he’d learn how to negotiate stairways and hatches, building up muscle. Felix hated these exercises. People kept staring at him, or so he thought, feeling their eyes burning into his neck. He couldn’t salute because his hands were occupied, and with his rank and position in limbo, he wasn’t even sure about how to acknowledge people. Working out was exhausting, and leaving his quarters was annoying. He pointed out to Cottle that he didn’t plan on going anywhere, but the doctor wouldn’t have any of it.

It was easier to withdraw to his quarters. Singing still worked; he pieced together some songs he’d thought to be long forgotten. Also, Hot Dog would show up and tell him about life on Galactica, about how Sharon had been released from the brig, about Hot Dog’s own attempts to get into Racetrack’s pants. Unfortunately, she thought he was a bit dense.

The pilot started asking questions about New Caprica soon, all the questions he never seemed to have dared ask anybody because nobody ever spoke of New Caprica now. Felix thought maybe that was why he’d kept coming back, and providing answers was an easy price to pay. All his questions were filled with fascination and dread, curiosity about the one horror Hot Dog had escaped. They were also questions nobody had ever asked Felix, like what had made him join the resistance (people had asked why he hadn’t) and how the Cylons had treated him (people had assumed he’d been fine) or if Boomer had been different from the others. Then, Hot Dog told about living on Galactica in that time, flying drills, not knowing if the Old Man would really pull off the rescue. He told how Kat had gotten a skin rash three days into being CAG and Ishay had said it was from nerves. The pilots kept blaming mistakes on the CIC and the CIC kept pointing out it wasn’t their responsibility if the pilots couldn’t fly. Felix had noticed additional tensions after coming back, it was true.

It was strange how the blanks in his former life were being filled while his future was entirely empty. Felix opted to ignore this problem however, refusing to think about his future in every respect. That was, until Admiral Adama knocked at his door.  


* * *

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, Mr. Gaeta,” Adama said gravely, looking at Felix who’d insisted on getting up even if he wasn’t in uniform. “I had already arranged for a transfer to the LSO spot if you decided to come back. The third LSO isn’t affected by action stations calls. You could have sat.”

It was a storage track, the LSO position. Everybody knew. Once you were there, you never got out of it. Neither air wing nor CIC would ever take you seriously. The air wing had always regarded Captain Kelly as a failed ECO shoving real pilots around, and the CIC took all his orders with a grain of salt because how could the landing deck guy know anything better than them? So Felix could see how being third LSO would suit him. Wordlessly, he waited.

“However,” said Admiral Adama. “The last two weeks have shown that we’re severely understaffed in the CIC. It appears that tasks were put off while you were on Demetrius. I have a report on my hands with a list of all things people expected would be taken care of by you. I tried to replace you but I would need two people to fulfill your day-to-day duties alone.”

Felix could imagine that, and he felt his heart flutter because that was a compliment and he couldn’t even remember when he’d last gotten a compliment. Nobody from the CIC crew was at fault of course. Dee had never been trained to be a navigator, having had enlisted training only. Hoshi openly admitted to having cheated his way through math at the Academy. Alghee was a physics geek but had grown up without computers, and none of them had ever managed to maintain the programs Felix had written to tweak the CIC consoles, although he’d tried his hardest to teach them. If there were any enlisted personnel with the right set of skills, he hadn’t discovered them yet, although he had tried that as well.

And the admiral wasn’t done either. “I would have liked to give you all the time you needed to recover,” Adama said. “Or to let you go if you decided to resign. But I can’t let that happen now. Frankly, we need you back at the tactical station as soon as you think you can make it, Mr. Gaeta. I’m sorry.”

His skin was tickling with excitement. Excitement and pride. Felix had never thought he’d ever feel any of these again and he suddenly wished he could present a better picture than a gray face and crutches; that he could pull himself up. “I’ll report for duty ASAP, sir,” he said. “I wish I could salute.”

The admiral smiled. “It’s more important to have you back, Lieutenant,” he said, saluting himself. Felix nodded. Then he aborted the motion and shook his head. It was just too hard to believe.  


* * *

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hot Dog said. He’d walked in on Felix struggling with his crutches and locker, trying to get a uniform together without rumpling the cloth. It was hard. Felix’ arms were trembling already from the strain of standing. Costanza was lounging next to the door now, hands shoved into his pockets, a displeased expression on his face. “Seriously, it’s a really bad idea. You can’t go back to work yet. It’s barely been ten days. Don’t think I don’t notice how much you’re in pain just because I don’t point it out.”

Felix reached for his trousers, then worked his way over to his desk, annoyed that the other man didn’t lift a finger to help him like he usually would. “It will only be light duty for now. Half shifts first, full shifts when I’m in better shape. I’ll work out more. It’s all been cleared with Cottle.”

“Yeah, because Adama ordered him to do it,” said Costanza in exasperation. “Except Adama doesn’t care shit about what’s best for you! Look at you, you need to be in bed!”

“Admiral Adama says he needs me,” Felix answered stoically.

Costanza rolled his eyes. “Screw Adama! You lost a frakking leg! Can’t you think of yourself?” He looked Felix up and down sharply. “You can’t even walk up to the CIC on your own yet, Gaeta. You aren’t eating in the mess. You haven’t gone back to your life at all, you’re not even playing cards again. You should be back to playing cards, at least, before you start working. I keep telling you we’re a man short without you.”

“Ask Athena then,” Felix said in a clipped voice, throwing his clothes onto the rack with force.

The difference was that Costanza insisted on thinking of Felix as a normal guy with a normal life, who should go through recovery step by step. Felix however couldn’t make out a life he could get back to at all, and if there was one anyhow, he wasn’t sure he wanted it back.

Felix Gaeta, resident geek was not being missed by anybody. Lt. Gaeta, watch officer and navigator was. If this wouldn’t make him stop thinking about pulling the trigger of his service pistol, he didn’t know what else.  


* * *

However, further complications arose after his second shift. Felix was just working his way back to his quarters. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that Costanza had been right because he didn’t have the strength to walk the length of a deck, having to pause every other minute to catch his breath, to wait for the muscles in his arms to stop trembling. Leaving his quarters was a bitch every time. He was glad that Costanza wouldn’t come over tonight since the pilots were celebrating Starbuck making CAG again. Costanza was going there with Racetrack.

Now, three women showed up, exchanging looks when they recognized him, approaching him with determined faces. Felix did not recognize them at all but waited politely until they reached him. His face was known to many people due to newspaper articles written after New Caprica. Civilians tended to approach him if they wanted to ask an officer a question. It was a part of the job.

“We are so sorry about what happened to you, Mr. Gaeta,” said the first, a pale brunette with huge eyes, glancing at the stump in sympathy. “It’s such a tragedy. We’ve been praying for you, all of us, for you to have strength, and faith.”

It was said with so much sincerity and warmth that Felix didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t encountered many kind strangers since New Caprica. “I’m... Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“We want you to know that this isn’t a punishment, even if it feels like it is,” the blonde added. “Gaius has assured us that it isn’t. He told us all about how the circumstances drove you towards hatred and spite, but he’s forgiven you. We’ve all forgiven you. You need support now, not needless hatred.”

Felix had blanched. “Gaius,” he repeated faintly, blindly readjusting his crutches because he was swaying.

The brunette smiled at him. “He didn’t send us,” she said. “He didn’t need to. He forgave you everything you did. God has forgiven you all your sins. You just need to let go and pray. Gaius would be so happy if you just forgave him for all you believe he did wrong.”

“It would be a wonderful gesture if you were to come to one of his sermons, to extend your hand in forgiveness and friendship.” The blonde gazed at his crutches with pity. “We’d be happy to come pick you up and help you get there, of course.”

It was hard to breathe, his chest feeling too tight. _Gaius Baltar almost killed you all,_ Felix wanted to say. _He sold you all out because he only cares about himself. He collaborated with the enemy, again and again, not even because he was in love with Six but because he needs to be worshipped, even by her. He’s a narcist with no backbone whatsoever, he’s a liar and he’ll betray us all again because he does not care._

“Get the frak out of my way,” he breathed.

“You have to forgive him,” the third urged him. “Love and forgiveness are God’s first commandments.”

 _Which explains all about why he made it up,_ Felix thought weakly.

He thought he might black out here and now.

“Get out of my way,” he repeated but they didn’t. He went into motion anyway, trying to ignore them when they followed him. He reached his quarters after what felt like an eternity, pale from exhaustion, and full of mind-numbing spite towards Baltar, panicking for a moment when he was sure they would follow him into the room.

Sinking down to the ground breathing hard, he kept seeing Baltar’s face in front of himself. Wide eyes, when he stared at the gun on New Caprica. Making a strangled noise when Felix drove the pen down because he didn’t think of twisting Baltar’s head and breaking his neck in time.  


* * *

Six days into work they found Earth.

Felix still felt exhilarated when the landing party had left Galactica. He couldn’t believe he felt happy. He couldn’t believe he’d actually laughed. And especially, he couldn’t believe that this wild-goose chase had really led them somewhere. Temple art and visions and all these things he’d personally considered to be crap had found them _Earth_. It was actually over.

Accompanied by Hoshi carrying his notes, he worked his way over to the science lab. The first of their scientific research ships had finished its orbital scans and sent its read-outs to Galactica. Felix couldn’t be down there now, true, but he could do the next best thing and be the first to have a look at Earth in numbers. Dee had said that a mere look out of the window told right away that it was better than New Caprica and that it looked an awful lot like Picon, which happened to be Felix’ home colony.

“Well, what do we have?” Hoshi asked curiously after Felix had inserted the disk, having a first look at the data flashing over the screen.

Most numbers were accompanied by little red flags.

For a moment, it was hard to come up with a reaction at all.

Then it just felt like losing a limb all over again.  


* * *

The CIC tended to hand on scientific data to the air wing last because secretly they weren’t sure if all pilots could read. So when he entered his quarters, Felix knew that Costanza hadn’t gotten the news very long ago. The pilot was hunched on a chair at the table, looking up. With a pang Felix noticed that Costanza was wearing full flight gear. Shortly before the end of his shift, the CAP had reported they’d break atmosphere to sneak a look. Now that he thought of it, that had been Hot Dog’s voice on the wireless, full of anticipation and excitement. It must have been a devastating sight.

Quietly he went through the complicated process of closing the hatch, working his way over to the table and sitting down across Costanza. The pilot looked shaken. It was harder for him, Felix guessed numbly. He knew that Costanza prayed to Artemis and Ares everyday, having believed in the scriptures and Earth as if they offered salvation.

They shared the details of how they’d found out in subdued voices, in the way you’d talk about how you’d learned that somebody had died - before the war, that was, when death was still special.

“You know,” Costanza said quietly. “I just thought we’d have a home again. I mean, I always thought people were a bit naïve about Earth. What did they think? That people were just waiting for us to show up? They might have forgotten us. We almost forgot them, too. I thought it would be all politics and that stuff, a couple of face-offs maybe but I thought it would be _home_.

“I grew up on a farm,” he continued after a moment. “My sisters, mum and I. We had horses. Mum was a vet. I was in a desk job at a place that built silos. Rural area but wealthy, you know? Sure I like flying but I thought if they didn’t need pilots anymore, I could just go back to living on a farm. Everybody has animals and silos. I could teach kids how to ride or something, if they had horses on Earth.”

“Where were you heading when the Cylons hit?” Felix asked.

“Vacating on Cloud Nine.” Costanza gave a shaky laugh. “Won a sweepstake at a fair. First time I left Libron since I dropped out of flight school.”

Felix shook his head, thinking of how they’d lost Cloud Nine, how it had been a lifetime since he’d thought about fairs. He remembered he’d been at a fair on Aquarius with his boyfriend once, on shore leave, newly in love. They’d split up when he transferred to Galactica for border patrol, convinced that his career was that much more important than a boyfriend.

“Wait here,” he said and signaled for Costanza to stay put when he struggled up from his chair, refusing to think about how every movement was too frakking complicated. Grabbing his crutches, he aimed for his desk. There was a bottle of ambrosia buried in a drawer from before the Demetrius mission. It was good ambrosia, the real thing, he’d bought it from a deckhand on the Chrion in exchange for an old stash of porn. It had originally been waiting for a free shift where he’d planned on getting plastered.

“I don’t think you should mix ambrosia with pain meds,” Costanza said in a doubtful voice when Felix went through the long-winded process of placing a glass in front of him with only one hand, then reaching for the bottle to pour him a gracious amount.

“I shouldn’t,” Felix agreed. “Drink it alone.”  


* * *

No matter what, Felix would admit in a heartbeat that he’d become a little self-involved upon losing a leg. Still, he would be surprised to learn how many things there were that had escaped his notice (and how many others would keep escaping his notice a little longer) because if you have to be concerned about stumbling at every step you take, there isn’t much time left to pay attention to detail.

Therefore, he didn’t see it coming when Costanza said “I lied,” staring at his glass of ambrosia, and Felix froze on his way back to his chair. People had lied to Felix Gaeta in the past. Gaius Baltar had lied to him and to the public on New Caprica, whenever he opened his mouth. Galen Tyrol had once lied to him when he said he was his friend, Helo when he said he’d do anything for Felix on Demetrius. The only person to never have lied to him was possibly Starbuck.

“Pardon?” he said cautiously because the best thing would be to have misheard.

Costanza tilted his head. “I lied when I came for a visit while you were in sickbay,” he said, diverting his eyes from his glass to look at Felix.

Felix decided to play for time, having a bad feeling about this. “The Libron custom did sound a bit cheesy.”

Costanza gave him an uneasy grin. “Well, it really exists,” he said. “But I’m talking about the frak list. I didn’t really think it would cheer you up. I’m not that dumb. I just thought there’s really nobody on Galactica who knows how to deal with amputees, so I’d just sneak in a couple of practical pointers to show you a way for how to tackle all the issues.”

“Not seeing the lie yet,” Felix said.

Costanza grimaced. “Alright,” he said. “Here’s the deal. My sister was an amputee. She lost her leg in a car crash when she was fifteen. I was twenty and we were pretty close, she always came to me to cry. I knew it would be hard for you. I just -” He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want a speech from some stranger. I thought I’d just check in on you and give you a hint.”

Felix blinked. “By giving me a sex list.”

“Well, I’d be worried about that if I were you.”

 _You aren’t me,_ Felix wanted to say. _Having had an amputee sister doesn’t make you me. You have no clue what it is like._ He didn’t though. Instead he kept looking at Costanza, waiting for the other shoe to drop. If people lied to you, there was usually a moment of shock, then followed by that horrible feeling of betrayal that he’d learned to dread.

Except it occurred to Felix a moment later that it wouldn’t happen like that because while Brendan had lied, technically speaking, it was the most harmless lie Felix could possibly think up, no ill intention being behind it whatsoever. A lie in good faith. Felix was not used to that kind of lie. Startled, he paused.

“Do you have any idea how inappropriate and tasteless that list was?”

“Never said I was much of a writer,” Costanza said in a defensive tone.

The more he thought about it, the more thoughtful a gesture it looked like. Thoughtful, and very much Brendan Costanza, who was a nice and giving guy, always ready to help. It was one of the things Felix was coming to like about him very much. And now, of course, little things were starting to make much more sense. Being around Costanza was easy for Felix while he felt clumsy and handicapped all the other time because he kept helping by opening hatches, shoving things out of the way. He acted like it was natural to do so. And he constantly rattled off suggestions on how this could go easier; how that could be changed. Felix hadn’t noticed, being distracted, but he noticed now.

“Well,” he said after a moment. “Do I want to know why you talked about frakking with your fifteen-year-old sister?”

The pilot gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you frakking kidding me? She kept crying all the time and I couldn’t find out why for days. Then she told me how she thought she was ugly although she was beautiful. And then she said she couldn’t figure out how frakking should work anyway and cried even more!” He shrugged in defense, crying obviously being unacceptable. “I searched the hypernet to look for clues, of course. Good thing she didn’t do it herself, too. You wouldn’t believe what pervs there were, with some sort of amputation kink of all things. And video files!” He shuddered, deeply offended on account of his sister. “Listen,” he added, clearing his voice. “It’s not that I planned on coming back for more visits or anything. I hope it’s not a problem.”

Felix made a final decision that it wasn’t. “No, it’s cute...”

Costanza’s eyes widened in horror.

Felix chuckled.  


* * *

For the rest of their free shift, he watched on while Costanza methodically worked his way through the bottle. Brendan talked about horses and about his sisters, both of them much younger than him; one of them had competed as a show jumper. Felix shared how much he missed his own sisters, both of them much older; one of them had been a civvie pilot and would have liked Costanza a lot. For a moment he wondered about what they would think if they could see him now, damaged like this. But it wasn’t good to think about that.

Instead, he listened patiently while Costanza, now with an audible slur, progressed from the subject of Racetrack to the subject of work, explaining why he would never ever get the finer points of military procedure.

“All that fiddling,” he said. “Mystery to me. I‘m too dumb to get it.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb,” said Felix, who didn’t. He thought of what Costanza had said about the fleet’s expectancies for Earth, about how he kept anticipating issues concerning Felix’ leg, about how he’d refrained from ever mentioning Seelix again when he shared gossip, noticing that hearing that name killed the mood for Felix.

“It’s just,” Costanza tried again. “I’m not Starbuck, or anything.”

“Thank the Gods for small favors,” Felix said.

He knew he was hiding out with Costanza, he really did. The world wasn’t quite out of kilter with the pilot around. He was on his way to becoming a friend. Not the kind of friend Felix had in Dee and Helo, who were friendly enough but had more important things showing up on their Dradis. Felix had never minded that before, knowing he wasn’t that important in the greater picture. But that had been before life had become so exhausting. It hurt every time people paused, belatedly remembering they shouldn’t have said this or that to a cripple, or when they took extra care to be polite.

It had only been three weeks. Still, Felix had already realized that he didn’t want people to be tactful. He wanted somebody to be close enough that they didn’t feel they had to be. It didn’t hurt to be around Costanza, it felt good.

“You’re too drunk to walk through the ship on your own,” he pointed out when he watched Costanza standing up to get back to the duty lockers, swaying ominously. Then he paused, adding, “You’re even more unsteady on your feet than me,” testing the sound of it. It hurt, suddenly and unexpectedly, that now that he had a friend, he couldn’t even help him home. “Stay here.”

A while later, Felix lay awake, staring at the ceiling. With Costanza sprawled all over the double rack snoring quietly, Felix felt fingers almost touch his thigh. He thought of Earth, trying to imagine the radiated mud and endless gray skies, the smell of booze and Brendan and hurt hanging in the air.  


* * *

The next morning, he woke up to the rustling of sheets. Feeling the person next to him move, Felix blinked his eyes open, finding Costanza propped up on his elbow, bleary, blood-shot eyes lingering on Felix.

When he noticed him watching, the pilot shook his thoughts off, smiling nervously and getting up fast.  


* * *

Galactica was jumping again. Even Felix as navigator didn’t exactly know where they were heading since they didn’t have a destination. It was like it had been in the beginning when everybody thought they were jumping towards Earth while Adama really had him plot search patterns for fuel and water. They couldn’t stay on Earth. The water there was radiated.

Felix had started hording painkillers even before that, estimating he’d need quite a lot of them to die. It hadn’t been easy to acquire the pills because Cottle only ever gave him a handful at a time. Also, he was still suffering from phantom pain that got in the way of things if he didn’t take meds. However, Felix had managed to skip on one or two every free shift whenever Costanza didn’t come for visits. He supposed he’d need less of them if he took them with some alcohol but didn’t count on it.

It only took a week until Costanza found the stash in a drawer in his head. It hadn’t been hidden very well.

When the pilot gave him an unusually long look upon leaving the head that evening, he didn’t think much of it.

“How’s it going with readjustment?” Costanza asked casually while picking up the Triad deck to return it to whomever he’d borrowed it from.

“Fine,” Felix said, surprised by the question. “It’s going just fine.”

“I see,” Costanza said and grew silent for a while. Then he struck up a conversation about how Helo said Figurski said that Tattoo was frakking a deckhand, all in a very casual voice.

It was only later that Felix found the relevant drawer to be empty. He looked down at it for a minute, no reaction coming to mind whatsoever. Without having to look he knew he’d find his service pistol gone, too.

None of them ever mentioned it. Felix did however restart taking the pills as prescribed.  


* * *

Felix didn’t know why he burst into tears in the officers’ head on his break.

He’d knocked over a piece of soap, which wasn’t a tragedy except maybe it was. Maybe all of it was or he was - it was hard to think. He just found himself sitting on the floor, crutches cluttering down. Burying his face in his hand, he cried so hard he thought he might burst. He just couldn’t do it anymore. It was too hard.

Felix couldn’t remember Dee having walked in on him but she must have, because suddenly she burst into the room, rapidly talking to Costanza, following behind, about how she’d found him like that.

One thing he would remember clearly was a helmet clanking to the ground, body heat emanating from the pilot when he knelt down at his side, no matter he was wearing full flight gear. He allowed the other man to wrap his arms around him, crying even harder.

“Should I call Dr. Cottle?” he heard Dee ask.

“Nah, I’m taking care of it.”

They said more but none of it registered. Dee left. Later, Felix would think that she must have lied to Tigh because theoretically he was on duty, and if the freshly reinstituted Cylon Colonel knew the whole story, he would have let it show for sure. Costanza had to be on duty as well but it seemed he didn’t care. Waiting for Felix to calm down enough, he half-carried him back to his quarters, helmet in his free hand.

“That’s better,” Costanza said quietly when he sat them down on the rack, drawing Felix to his chest again, hand on the back of his neck. “Just let it out. Keep your head down and try to breathe calmly when you feel better.” It took a while until he felt better though.

“I’m sorry,” Felix said numbly.

“Nothing wrong with crying,” Costanza said, holding him tighter.

Starbuck must have dressed him down for not showing up for patrol but Brendan never told how much he’d gotten into trouble.  


* * *

The President died three days after what would have been Colonial Day.

Felix listened to the service on the wireless while on watch in the CIC, all of them pausing with their work when a priest delivered the parting prayer before pushing the button and releasing the body into space.

They were surprised to see Adama enter the CIC just minutes later. They were not so surprised when they realized that he went straight for the phone, telling Dee to open a channel to all fleet ships.

It had been decided they’d fly home and finish the Cylons off once and for all, he said. They could do it, he said. The enemy did not resurrect anymore now when you shot them, and the enemy fleet was already divided. Their dying leader had brought them to Earth not to give them a new place to live but to show them a way to win back what was rightfully theirs. They would go home.

As speeches went, it was a good one.

Adama then told Felix to plot a lengthy route right into Cylon space. Although he kept working after hours, making it the best route possible, it took him three shifts to get it done. It was a very long way to go.  


* * *

Costanza had insisted Felix should own a table early on. He had then arranged for one to be commissioned from storage, enlisting Sharon’s help to carry it over. Nowadays, he complained that Felix never used it for anything, hinting unsubtly that Felix was lacking in visitors. Felix didn’t want visitors. However, as a show of good faith, he sat at the table a lot. This time, he was working through a fuel report when Costanza sat down across from him. “Hey Gaeta, I’ve been wondering about something.”

“I’m sure that’s an exciting new experience,” Felix said, recalculating a number.

“Funny.” Unabashedly, Costanza leaned forward. “How did you find out that you’re gay?”

Felix glanced up. “What?”

“How did you find out...”

“I got that,” Felix interrupted him, puzzled. “What does it matter?” This wasn’t a usual thing to be asked by straight people. It had been a classic conversational topic in the gay community of course, a favorite subject on first dates. Straight people only asked questions like that if they were planning on healing you. Felix was reasonably sure that none of these applied to Costanza.

Also, it wasn’t exactly a topic that commanded attention. Costanza had never made an impression that he cared about these things before, oblivious like straight people tended to be.

“I’m just curious,” the pilot said. “I mean, how did it work? Did you date girls first but didn’t like it, or what? How did you know?”

“I’ve always known. I’ve never dated girls. My sisters talked about boys all day, and I was twelve or something before I noticed that it wasn’t that usual for a boy to join in. My father had a hard time with it at first, I think; he was from Gemenon originally. But my mother made him change his mind. I never really cared about how I knew, I just did.” Crossing out the wrong figure and scribbling down the new one, Felix added rhetorically, “How do you know you’re straight?”

Since Felix was still very much in that place where things escaped his attention, he did not notice the sharp look Costanza gave him now.

He also tended to forget that despite all outward appearances, Costanza was one hell of a bluffer.

“I’m just wondering,” the pilot said after a moment.

“Huh,” Felix couldn’t help but tease, “Things going badly with Racetrack?”

Costanza snorted, getting up. “I’ll fetch us some food.”

A fleeting thought occurred that it was absurd to talk about this. It wasn’t that anybody on Galactica would have sex with a cripple even if he wanted someone to, so Felix didn’t see how it mattered.  


* * *

“I’m still waiting for an explanation, Mr. Gaeta,” Adama said. He said it in a quiet, serious tone of voice, no accusation there at all. But Felix was still glad he hadn’t taken the seat the admiral had offered when he came into the office. It was strange how after all this time, he still wanted to respect this man so much.

“I mean it. I don’t want it, sir,” he said, surprised that his voice didn’t waver at all. “I’d be honored if you wanted to promote me for doing a good job as watch officer. I don’t want to become senior lieutenant because I was shot and the crew needs to see that nobody gets overlooked on this ship. Sir.” Not even Mr. Gaeta, that poor bastard from the CIC who was said to have had some kind of breakdown when he couldn’t cope with being a cripple.

A sympathetic look crossed Adama’s face. Felix found he didn’t particularly like seeing it. All kinds of people looked at him like that these days. He would have liked a look like that on anybody’s face a year ago when he’d almost been executed by his ‘peers’. Or maybe Adama could have bothered with the sentiment when he woke up in sickbay pumped up with tranquilizers, learning he’d tried to stab Gaius Baltar with a pen in an interrogation. It had been weeks until that memory came back.

Adama looked thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t want to promote you because you were shot, Mr. Gaeta,” he said eventually.

But he did want to promote him because of morale.

Felix hardened his face.

“I don’t want it, sir,” he said. “Because I don’t think we’re that desperate.”

It could have been funny but to his own surprise, Felix found that he meant it. He knew a lot more about how much life could suck than Admiral Adama, and he didn’t think that everything was lost for Galactica at all.  


* * *

War was raging again. This time however it was different from before, a new kind of war with new kinds of dangers. It was them attacking now while the damaged basestar of their allies stayed behind as protection for the fleet. Soon they were joined by another group of renegade Sixes and renegade Twos bringing a little army of Centurions along. They gained a small military fleet on their own that used the Cylon network to track the other Cylons’ moves, adopting a strategy of raiding and retreating. People were promoted. Others died.

“I have a problem,” Brendan said without preamble, bursting into Felix’ quarters with wide eyes. It was a few days after their third large-scale attack, having cost them five of their pilots including Showboat and Hex.

Glad as always to see the man in one piece after a CAP, Felix signaled for him to take a seat, putting away his clipboard. “What is it?”

“There’s been a rumor around,” Brendan said, clutching the edge of the table. “There’ll be promotions now that we lost second and third CAG. Helo says whoever has made most time in grade and most hits is going to make captain. That means third CAG. I checked with the others. That’s going to be me.”

“Well then, congratulations,” Felix said slowly, not seeing the problem.

Brendan gave him an exasperated look. “I can’t make CAG, Felix!” he hissed. “I don’t know how! I’ve never gotten the training, they only taught us how to fly when we were nuggets! And I told you how I didn’t manage flight school! I’m just not that clever!”

Felix blinked. “Nonsense,” he said resolutely.

The notion that Brendan could be too stupid to learn something Starbuck was doing everyday was entirely ridiculous in his book.

This, he could deal with. Thinking for a moment with the practiced ease of a person whose everyday job was solving problems, Felix turned around to look at his tiny bookshelf.

“See that black folder over there? Bring it over. Also the large book with the fleet emblem on it.

“Now,” he continued when Brendan complied, opening the command manual and shoving it over so the pilot could see. “Most CAG duties are deck duties. The first thing you need to know as CAG is launch and landing protocol because the LSO and Chief rely on you to keep your pilots in order or they can’t do their jobs.”

He spent the next several free shifts hunched over books with Brendan, diligently walking him through tech and command manuals and protocol, explaining the importance of each until the man had it down. Not taking no for an answer whenever Brendan said it couldn’t be done, he explained to him how to do things, when to do things, and why the regulations existed in the first place. Six years of CIC pride getting to him, Felix felt inspired to equip the air wing with at least one competent officer. He couldn’t believe they had people on Galactica walking around in officers’ uniforms, carrying guns for the Gods’ sake without any proper training at all… like, say, Sam Anders.

Brendan would make a great captain though.  


* * *

Upon receiving his promotion a couple days later, Brendan gave him a hug. It was a great hug, uncomplicated and overwhelming, lifting him off the ground. Laughing, Felix forgot all about promotions and war for a minute, concentrating on the feeling of warm skin and wiry muscle under his palms.

“Oh, I’ve even gotten Margaret to come to my promotion party,” Brendan said when he let him back to the ground. “Tonight after deck duty, we’ll…”

Felix detangled himself, smiling but firm, renewing the grip on the crutch he hadn’t lost. “Great,” he said. “That’s great.”

“Yeah, she and Sharon both had to switch a shift to make it work,” Brendan agreed, his hand lingering on Felix’ waist. “Anyway, you think you can make it down on your own? There are tricky stairways between the CIC and my place but not many and it isn’t that far. I checked.”

Of course he had. “I’m sorry I can’t. I’m working doubles all week.”

“Again?” Brendan protested.

“The third watch officer is in sickbay a lot,” Felix answered smoothly, taking a step back. It wasn’t a lie, technically. Myers was married to a nurse. “He needs some time off.”

“I see,” Brendan said curtly, changing the subject.

Felix made himself smile. He didn’t want to meet with other people.

That was all.  


* * *

Brendan still kept him posted about the parts of the rumor mill not accessible through the CIC crew. He’d bring dinner over for the two of them on days Felix didn’t show up in the mess on his break, insisting that Felix should eat. He recounted how Laird appeared to be frakking somebody in the supply closet but nobody knew who it was, and there was a promising new porn writer on the Prometheus. He’d started slipping Felix samples when he won them at Triad, not asking anything in return.

“Oh, and there’s Margaret,” Brendan remarked one day between two spoonful of today’s algae special. “She claims it’s nothing, but Skulls says she sneaks off every time they make a supply run to the Gemenon Cruiser. Comes back with dopy grins, too. Now, she never tells me anything anymore but I bet she’ll tell Sharon. Sharon always spills.”

Felix frowned. “That’s a shame. You must be crushed.” Maybe he’d misunderstood something about Brendan and Racetrack, he thought. Maybe it had evolved into more of a physical connection. Admittedly, he hadn’t let himself listen closely lately when Brendan talked about her.

“What?” Brendan glanced up at him, a confused look on his face. It was replaced by an expression of understanding a moment later. “Oh, that. I thought you knew. That never took, we’ve been back to being friends. I mean, Margaret’s smoking hot but turns out, that’s all there was between us. I think she still doesn’t take me seriously, what with her always giving me funny looks when I say something clever.

“Anyway,” he said after a moment, pausing to wolf down another spoonful of mash. “I’ve been thinking. I want to try out some new things, reorient myself a bit. Women are nice without question but maybe other things aren’t bad either.”

That was intriguing. Felix, as a long-term consumer of porn, was always interested in new kinks. After all, Brendan couldn’t possibly be saying what he thought he was saying, so he ignored that part. “Like what?”

Brendan gestured with his spoon. “Well, you know. There were some pretty interesting things on that frak list I wrote you.” He returned his attention to the food. “And I bet blowjobs are more fun with guys, too. I mean, I’m not saying that the butt sex isn’t a bit scary, because it is, but I figure I don’t have to try it all at once.”

It was funny how he had a hard time coming up with a reaction, any reaction at all. Carefully Felix put his own spoon down, observing the lights reflect on it.

“Whatever brought this on?” he asked. Belatedly he noticed that he had placed his hand in his lap like he’d used to do on New Caprica when he didn’t want people to see it start shaking, although that had never worked with Caprica Six.

Felix wasn’t really sure why but he thought, it was probably a phase. He’d heard stories about straight guys who felt inspired to try it out when they became friends with gay men. It had been fashionable in some circles, being bisexual. Brendan didn’t seem the type but you never knew.

In the corner of his eye, Brendan shrugged. “Been thinking about it for a while. I wanted to be sure it would keep steady before I made any announcements, you know? Not that I’ve tried anything yet but I’ve been thinking about it. I’m really sure. I figured it wouldn’t make sense to go through the trouble if I don’t really mean it.”

“Oh.” Words failed Felix. “And… well, how did you find out?”

“I don’t know.” Brendan glanced up at him then. “Just happened.”

An unusually reluctant smile appeared on his face, all his attention on Felix as if the world solely consisted of them, as if it was a great world as well.

Felix’ stomach constricted painfully and hard.  


* * *

It took Felix two days of glaring at his locker until he got a grip.

Muttering curses under his breath, he eventually gave in. He hopped over, searching until he found the damn piece of paper buried under his socks. He remembered he’d placed it in there before first putting his clothes away, not having touched it since. He’d planned on never touching it ever, telling himself he’d kept it only because it had been a present.

Sitting down on his rack, he unfolded the paper and started reading after taking a deep breath.

Brendan’s handwriting was narrow and edgy to save space, not the writing of a person who did it a lot. A gracious amount of commas were scattered all over the text like an afterthought, but all was ordered methodically, expression surprisingly precise – work done by a guy who’d been a clerk. Had Felix read it earlier, he would never have believed that Brendan had made it all up on the fly, because it was full of warnings about balance, scar tissue, swelling. Felix had been wondering when all of the swelling would go away. Another couple of months, then.

Apart from that, the list told a story of how Brendan had a kinky fondness for chairs of all things, and planned for sex to take longer than five minutes. On Galactica, frakking was usually a matter of quick romps in the duty lockers but Brendan wouldn’t have any of it, either anticipating Felix getting his own quarters or preference winning over practicability. Brendan liked oral sex. He really liked kissing. Both were pointed out as a special bonus in multiple suggestions.

There was a parenthesis pointing out that scar tissue was often erogenous, and if Felix squinted, he could make out all the times the word ‘stump’ was used at once, drawing an invisible pattern with it all over the sheet.

 _Not a chance in hell,_ he thought, feeling faintly sick when he put it away.  


* * *

The next time Felix saw Brendan, he thanked him firmly when the pilot opened a hatch for him, making very sure not to touch him on the way into the room. He was suddenly painfully aware of how much they used to touch, how he’d grown used to feeling Brendan hovering nearby, close enough to smell the mix of soap and machine oil he’d come to associate with Brendan. It even clung to his pillow some nights from Brendan sitting on his rack.

He felt Brendan’s eyes lingering on him but the pilot didn’t comment. After a pause, he followed in after Felix, closing the hatch with a quiet but firm thud.

Felix had trouble looking him in the eyes.  


* * *

Two days after Kelly died, Admiral Adama called Felix into his office.

“I’ll make it short, Mr. Gaeta,” the admiral said in his no-nonsense voice. “There have been reports about a lack of protocol on the landing deck for months. It’s a problem. All of Helo’s attempts to do something about it have failed. This morning I walked into Hot Dog lecturing the CAP on procedure, and Chief Tyrol assures me that most problems are gone on that rotation. I hear that was your doing.” He stood up. Naturally, Felix was standing, too, as he preferred to do in Adama’s presence. Making an exit took him long enough as it was. He didn’t want to waste the admiral’s time.

“I have no time for your sensibilities anymore,” Adama said. “You are hereby promoted to the rank of captain. Congratulations.”

He was holding a rank pin, Felix noticed, fastening it on his uniform already. Felix resisted the urge to flinch away. “Sir, I don’t know what to...”

“You’re in charge of senior officers’ training as of now,” Adama continued. “I can’t have a lieutenant train my officers. I trust you to coordinate a schedule with the Chiefs of Deck and the CAG without impairing on the pilots’ flight time.”

No matter what, Felix had to concentrate on not raising his eyebrows.

Some things never changed.  


* * *

Felix had never seen Brendan that angry before and he found he didn’t care much about the experience. He had a hard time staying on his crutches, shaking too hard, and when Brendan loomed over him, forcing him to step back, he was thankful to bump into something. Things had been a bit strained between them recently but that didn’t seem to be a priority now.

Brendan’s palm hit the wall beside his head.

“I don’t give a frak about how complicated it is!” he snapped. “Don’t tell me that was a first time! If they do that on a regular base, it has to stop and I don’t care what you think!”

“This is none of your business, Brendan...”

“Don’t even try!” Brendan looked furious, even more furious than when he’d walked into them in the hallway before, chasing Baltar’s acolytes away like chicken. “Alright. Here are your choices. Either we go get a marine to guard you so they’ll leave you alone, _or_ you give me a name _now_ so I can make this stop once and for all!”

Breathing a laugh that didn’t quite come out right, Felix tried to calm him down. “Brendan, I’m dealing with it.”

“Are you?! Because it sure doesn’t look like it! You’re really gray and you’re five seconds from frakking fainting! I don’t even want to know what they said to you! Does this have to do with that Connor guy? That why you won’t go to the bar?”

“Connor and I are getting along _fine_.” It was true. They were. Connor had said he was sorry, buying him drinks. More than a year ago. It was more than most had done.

“Who is it then? People harassing you still for that frak-up on New Caprica? Starbuck say something to people?”

“No.” He doubted Starbuck would ever care that much. “They’re just civilians, Brendan, they...”

“This got anything to do with Gaius Baltar and his sect then?”

Felix looked away.

“I knew it.” The look Brendan shot him was murderous. “I’ll kill that bastard I swear.”

“Look,” Felix hurried to say. Unable to make himself look Brendan in the eyes, he tried to be reasonable. “I don’t think he’s sending them out. He probably doesn’t even know.” Because Baltar didn’t care that much either, didn’t care at all if he frakked up Felix’ life some more. “It’s not that he can do anything about...”

“Like hell he can’t,” Brendan growled, pushing himself off the wall. He gave Felix one last angry look. Then he was gone as fast as he’d shown up.

Felix leaned back against the wall, heart pounding too fast. An exhilarated feeling coursing all through his chest, he looked after Brendan, the space that had been occupied by him feeling painfully empty.  


* * *

Brendan was released from the brig two days later. Felix hadn’t been able to visit, he hadn’t had a long enough break but he’d felt that might not actually have been a bad thing. When Brendan slipped into his quarters, quietly closing the hatch behind himself, Felix was still so filled with bewilderment, it took him a whole minute to come up with anything to say.

“I _can’t_ believe you did that,” he tried in the end but it really, really didn’t convey the amount of disbelief he was feeling. Why was it that his life consisted solely of things he would never have seen coming?

Positioning himself at the other side of the room, Brendan just shrugged, flinching a second later, and Felix noticed scratches running down his neck. Scratches looking like they’d been made by fingernails. He couldn’t _wait_ to hear that story. Besides, Brendan looked like he were on trial. It wasn’t an entirely inappropriate comparison.

Felix opened and closed his mouth. “I can’t _believe_ you punched Gaius in the _face_ in the middle of a godsdamned service. It was on the wireless, for frak’s sake.”

A moment passed and Brendan grinned, pulling himself up a bit straighter. “Did he lose teeth, do you kn...”

“Two,” Felix said.

The grin grew until it split Brendan’s face, looking enormously and adoringly dorky on him. “Good,” he said. “Then it was worth it.”

Felix shot him another exasperated look but Brendan just snickered, and Felix felt something come loose, somewhere so deep within himself that he hadn’t even known it was there.  


* * *

Kelly had made major shortly before he died. It had been one of the few services Felix had attended. However, he did refuse to join the memorial service for Tigh when the XO was captured and killed on a refueling mission gone wrong. Felix stood watch in the CIC instead, eventually being relieved by Helo who showed up pointing at his own new rank pin and rolling his eyes.

Felix headed down to the mess to catch some food, contemplating on his long way whether it would be worth it to reevaluate some things. But, no. It was bad for Galactica that Tigh was dead but he’d kept hating the man’s guts right up until the end, and he would remember him like the incompetent drunk he had been, no matter what.

When he was halfway through his meal, Sam Anders sat down at his table.

“Listen, Gaeta,” the lieutenant said, uneasy. “I’d understand if you’d say no. But how about we go to Joe’s and I’ll buy you a drink?”

For a moment, Felix just looked at him warily. He noticed that when Anders had shown up, his first thought had been something despicable about the man’s wife, nothing to do with Demetrius at all. He wondered why he hadn’t scheduled him for officers training yet, too.

“Alright,” he said. “Let me finish this up.”

His expression transforming into one of relief, Anders nodded, watching him eat without another word.

Maybe there were some other things Felix could rethink.  


* * *

There was a rumor around that Sharon was having another baby but she kept flying, so it must be a hoax. There was a rumor about the married women being pregnant every three months or so anyway, so it wasn’t that exciting in the first place. Switch, one of the new viper pilots however turned out to be pregnant without a father in sight, and that was pretty interesting for everybody.

Brendan kept Felix informed about all of it whenever he had time to visit him before or after duty. It was said that the Quorum representative from Tauron was planning to run for office against Zarek with Lee Adama as her Vice President, supposedly because they had an affair. It was said that over at the basestars, Tory Foster had hooked up with one of the Leobens or possibly with two. It was said that Dee had been spotted leaving the supply closet shortly after Laird. When Felix needled her about it on a break to make her spill, she just shrugged, smiling brilliantly like neither Apollo nor Billy Keikeya had ever made her smile.

Brendan rolled on the floor with laughter when Felix recounted that Alghee said Davis said Hoshi had been seen stumbling towards the quarters of one Cylon Chief Tyrol, most definitely drunk. The outcome of that one was still unknown, Hoshi being unusually tight-lipped about it. Or possibly he just couldn’t remember.

It was hard to care about the few bits of gossip about Baltar and his cult reaching Galactica. They had moved to bigger locations on the Celestra some time ago, and rumor had it they were fighting it out with the resident Gemenese. However, Felix found he was entirely content to know the man was very far away, both out of his sight and out of his life.

One morning he entered CIC noticing that things had quieted down, as they sometimes did even in a time of war. Adama was nowhere in sight, taking a free shift again. Helo gave Felix a nod when he passed him on his way to tactical. Dee was busy calculating a practice jump route at the command table, signaling him she had a question as soon as he had time. Hoshi handed him the watch report, going back to introducing a bunch of new ensigns to communications.

The CAP was trading quips on the wireless, Narcho threatening to mutiny if Hot Dog and Twister kept singing.

It had been eleven months to the day that he’d lost his leg.  


* * *

“Alright, this is ridiculous,” Brendan said, slumping down on Felix’ rack. Making himself comfortable, he had a look around that seemed to include all of Felix’ sparsely furnished quarters. “We have to change something about it.”

Felix stopped writing his report, looking around as well. “If you want more exciting interior design, maybe you shouldn’t be friends with a navigator on a battlestar.”

“Very funny,” Brendan said, rolling his eyes. “No,” he continued, clasping his hands together in his lap and growing serious. “I mean this. You. In here. All frakking day long.”

“Except when I’m working, which is always?” Felix was having a feeling that he wouldn’t like this conversation.

“Come on, Felix. When was the last time you went to the bar?”

“When I had a drink with Lieutenant Anders,” Felix said without thinking.

Brendan gave him a look. “Anytime else in the last frakking year?”

Dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair, Felix prepared himself for the speech.

“You’re in here all day,” Brendan said. “I don’t like it. It’s not healthy. You work in the CIC and you eat in the mess, and the rest of the time you hide out. I know it’s not easy but you’ll never get used to people staring if you don’t get out of here. And people won’t stop staring if they don’t get used to seeing you around. People are asking for you all over the place and I haven’t got a clue what I should tell them, either. You didn’t even show up at Sharon and Helo’s annual.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“I wasn’t either. Sharon asked me why I didn’t bring you. You’re still not dealing, Felix. This isn’t living, this is vegetating.”

“Where did you learn that word?”

Brendan just smirked, recognizing the tactic for what it was.

“Listen,” he said. “I know how hard it is, I really do. It’s awful, all the readjustments and getting used to the changes and whatnot. But you’re getting around just fine and you haven’t been in pain for months. Seriously, let’s do something about it. What’s wrong with playing Triad with some of the guys at least sometimes?”

Felix didn’t even blink. “The rec room is at the other end of the ship, Brendan.”

“So what? You’re in good shape. Good looking triceps, too.” He grinned at the unimpressed look Felix shot him for that one.

“Be that as it may,” Felix allowed, determined to drive his point home because even if he were longing to go to the rec room, which he wasn’t, it wasn’t that easy. “That’s still walking through the ship twice after a shift, not counting that I’d just have come down from the CIC. Rec room three decks down and CIC one deck up, that makes seven stairways and approximately a mile.”

“Fine excuse, isn’t it?”

“It’s a fact, Brendan. It can’t be done. And it’s not that important, either.”

Felix didn’t want to go to the rec room. A lot of things had gotten better, he’d admit that in a heartbeat. Some people had been permanently removed from his life, he’d reconciled with others. A lot of things had been a long time ago. New Caprica had been a long time ago. There were people he looked forward to seeing on duty and wouldn’t mind seeing more often. Still, some things hadn’t changed. He still despised Seelix and Starbuck with a passion, and he refused to spend his little time off in the same room with Starbuck celebrating herself. He’d gotten hurt enough, he’d taken enough, and he couldn’t get himself to turn his back on it all but he could draw a line.

When Brendan gave him a thoughtful look, Felix held it with quiet determination.

“Okay,” his friend said, standing up. “I see your point but I still think you’re wrong. I’m going to resolve this for you. You can’t hide out in here and waste your life like that forever.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Play cards,” Brendan said. “I’ll be here after next shift.”

Felix raised his eyebrows. “Again with the mile, Brendan. I could calculate the distance to a foot if you’d just hand me a deck plan.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Brendan said and left.  


* * *

Nevertheless, Felix found himself waiting for Brendan after his next shift, finding that whatever he had planned, Felix trusted him that it wouldn’t be something he’d hate. Sitting on his rack while he waited, he noticed he’d been fingering the buttons of his uniform jacket, unsure if he should get rid of it or not. Looking down, he paused. It was silly. It wasn’t like he was going on a date.

He was reasonably sure of that.

When somebody knocked loudly, he knew it was Brendan, the hatch unlocking from the outside. Holding onto the pole of his rack, Felix started to get up, only to be interrupted by Brendan marching in and throwing a box of cigarettes over. He caught it by reflex.

“Evening, Felix,” Brendan said, holding the hatch open for Helo, who was carrying a chair in every hand, nodding at Felix, lollipop in mouth.

“What are you...” Felix started saying, then stopped and sank back down on his rack. Helo was trailed by Hoshi, a bottle of the knuckledraggers’ finest in hand. Dee was following suit, dragging in Laird with her who smiled Felix an excuse as if not sure whether he was wanted. The last to enter was Racetrack who was busy skimming through a deck of cards, not even bothering with a hello. She and Brendan had become pretty close friends. She and Felix had no opinion of each other whatsoever.

“It sure beats the rec room in terms of ambiance,” Hoshi remarked, having a curious look around.

Helo gave the room an appreciative glance, too. “I must say I don’t mind having a head that close by either.”

“Well, Sharon says she’ll let you play cards all the time if you check in on Hera next door between games,” Brendan said with a grin, leaning over and helping Felix to a chair at the table in one swift move. Then he handed him the crutches to place them nearby without even looking at what he was doing.

“Alright,” Dee said when everybody settled down. “Who’ll deal?”

Just a bit overwhelmed, Felix shook his head, throwing Brendan a glance. Brendan smiled.

Felix couldn’t help but smile back.

They might have taken him by surprise, but as the evening progressed Felix found he didn’t mind, listening to everybody teasing Hoshi about his exploit with the Chief, watching Dee distract Laird while she cleaned him out sneakily. Not even when Felix lost most games. He kept being distracted himself because he couldn’t seem to make himself let go whenever he touched Brendan’s hand.

It didn’t seem like Brendan minded, either.  


* * *

By the time they cleared out, it was well after rack time. Helo shot him a smile before leaving, followed by Hoshi cracking jokes while dragging a very drunk Racetrack after him. Felix hadn’t even known these two knew each other. Or maybe they’d just bonded tonight.

Racetrack whooped as a goodbye, threatening they’d all be back.

Felix looked after them with bemusement. Then he snickered because Brendan had bumped into a chair on his way back from the head, swearing violently in rural Libran. He looked up when he heard Felix, starting to smile broadly.

“Quite a night, huh?” he said, sounding pleased with himself.

“I can’t believe Hoshi drank all that ambrosia.”

“Yeah, he’s becoming quite the party animal.”

“Maybe we should invite the Chief next time.”

Brendan’s face lit up at the suggestion of a repeat performance; then he snickered evilly. Felix watched him for a moment clearing the table, then sat down on the desk he’d been leaning on with a slight jump, letting his leg dangle. It wouldn’t do to try and help; Brendan would be finished before Felix could do anything relevant. Since it was late and he was tired, he couldn’t say he minded.

A minute of silence passed while Brendan disposed of the ashtray. Then he reappeared in the bathroom door, lounging against the frame.

“Well,” he said after a moment, tilting his head. “How’s it going with readjustment?”

It took Felix a moment until he made the connection, remembering a day almost a year ago when Brendan had asked him the same thing; when he’d found the painkillers in the head. There were none there this time, of course.

He’d already opened his mouth to say he was fine when it occurred to him that he’d said something like that back then, too, but it had been a lie.

“I hate the stairway in the CIC,” he said instead. It was the first thing that came to mind. “I stumble every time I have to be at tactical fast.”

Brendan’s face softened. A warm feeling tingled in Felix’ chest. “Maybe you could ask Adama to install a ramp or something.”

Felix blinked. “I really could,” he agreed, never having thought of that before. You didn’t just ask the Old Man to make design changes in his CIC. However, Felix supposed that Adama could as well deal with the consequences if he chose to have a one-legged navigator around.

Brendan was looking fidgety, as if unsure whether he should move. There was a moment of pause then, and Felix found himself looking away, overly aware that there was a routine, there was a way things usually went when they met, one that didn’t involve closing that distance between them. And even if he could move easily...

“Uhm,” Felix said, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. In the corner of his eye, he saw Brendan lifting his head to look at him hopefully. “About that sex list you gave me once. I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time to try some things out. I wouldn’t say I’m quite there yet on all accounts…” he continued, surprised about how flushed he suddenly felt. His hand moved to clutch the edge of the table. “But I guess I don’t have to try everything at once.” Which he was sure was something Brendan had said when he came out to him. Considering Felix had agonized over that conversation for days, he remembered it well. He might have agonized over it a bit more in the last couple of days.

“That’s great,” Brendan said and Felix looked up fast. Looking nervous and eager all at once, Brendan shot him a question. “What about kissing?”

“Definitely a possibility,” Felix blurted, although still flushed, and Brendan broke into motion, closing the space between them with a few large steps.

“About frakking time,” he said. Before Felix knew what was happening, hands were wrapping around his waist and Brendan’s lips touched his. Felix made a small sound, his hand in the back of Brendan’s neck, drawing him in.

There was no fuss about Brendan kissing: intense and focused and methodical, and a careless kind of sloppy with a lot of tongue. It was exactly like Brendan was supposed to be kissing, like his world had narrowed down on Felix alone. Felix concentrated on the feeling of arms wrapping around him, sliding his hand under Brendan’s tank top to feel skin and wiry muscle, almost like he’d imagined it to feel except more real.

It was easy to let the world spin around him. Soon, he was growing dizzy from a lack of air and not caring at all.

But Brendan cared it seemed, eventually breaking away to kiss Felix’ cheekbone, his brow, and Felix held on to him, resting his cheek on Brendan’s. He felt Brendan grin all over his face after a moment, stubbles scratching against his cheek.

“About frakking time?” he repeated, stifling a laugh.

“Sure was,” Brendan muttered unabashedly, kissing the crook of his neck, arms wrapping tighter around Felix, hands steady on his back. “How about I stay the night? That okay, too?” he added quietly.

Felix gave an agreeable sigh, nuzzling against Brendan. He wasn’t in a hurry to move, and it would by no means be acceptable if Brendan left any time soon. He knew they should probably go on taking things slow, as hard as that might prove to be at this point but he also knew for sure that it would all work out eventually. More so, Felix was madly glad about everything he could look forward to in that respect. And right now, he wanted to hold Brendan closer.

 _About frakking time,_ he thought with a smile.

If he concentrated, Felix could hear Brendan’s heartbeat, pounding against his own chest steadily but slightly too fast. Galactica’s engines were humming faintly all around them. There was a slight stutter in their pace right now, signaling that up in the CIC, they were heating up the FTL drive, preparing to jump them one step closer to home.

It was hard to remember why they should bother.


End file.
